God, Father (A Meditation on Forgiveness)
Some church people
Really have a nerve–
Trying to persuade me
That I should talk with you
As if it’s I that need forgiveness.
Do they take me for a total fool?
Arguably, you’re no great shakes
As a god or as a father.
For centuries, you harassed
Your chosen people, Israel,
Enslaving them in Egypt, then
Leading them into a desert wilderness,
Afterwards sending them to settle a land
Already claimed by tribes
Just as aggressive as they became.
You handled your anointed
Prophets roughly, too–
Disdain, isolation, ostracism,
Mental and physical abuse.
The crowning insult came when
You decided you should redeem
The world (not that it had
Asked for your help right then.)
You imagined sending a child
Would provide just the right touch.
So you knocked up an
Innocent girl, then bolted,
Leaving Joseph to take up
A whole shitload of slack.
As your earthly son grew
In stature and wisdom,
You encouraged him
To develop his powers
Of teaching and preaching
And healing.
Separately, each of these
Talents would eventually
Have caused him trouble
With worldly authorities.
In combination,
They could only prove lethal.
When the expected betrayal
Came at last, and your only
Begotten son was writhing
In agony, impaled to die
As a common criminal,
What did you do?
Abandoned him,
Just like you’d earlier
Skipped out on his mother.
And I should ask for your forgiveness?
Yeah, right!
Yet in desperate moments
I confess
That I need to experience
Deep forgiveness
Before I can share
Its wonders with others,
That it takes
An overriding power to
Squelch the stern, unlovely
Authority I’ve internalized–
Demanding perfection,
The first time, every time,
Always.
I know, too, that the
Power of earthly fathers,
Lovingly exercised,
Mirrors that forgiving strength.
I know that sufferers of
Earthly oppression
Often pray to father
Gods for release.
So I strive to pardon
Both you and myself,
To become a better parent
To the child who at times
Still cringes inside of me.
I need to leave you while I work through
Misconceptions that have fermented
In our faiths for centuries.
Time and effort will be needed to
Mature my doubts into a worthy vintage.
I’m sure I’ll want to talk with you
Again, after a while.
Until then, please take good care of yourself.
Jinny's Occasional Poems 